50 Song Challenge
by To-Dwell-On-Dreams20
Summary: "Music, a magic beyond all we do here,"- Albus Dumbledore  50 song prompts. 50 one shots. Various pairings, various eras, various genres.
1. It's Raining Again Skyler Gray

_It's raining again_

_Tell me something I don't know_

_This place can make you dizzy_

Ginny sits at the top of the stairs. She hugs her faded pink dressing gown to her chest, her hair dripping down her back from the shower she just took. She leans her head against the peeling wallpaper beside her, warm and bright like the rest of The Burrow. She closes her eyes, and just listens.

Downstairs, the living room is filled with members of The Order. Her father is probably sitting in his worn armchair, his stubbly chin resting on a freckled hand, shaking his head in dismay at the latest move by the Death Eaters. Her mother will be passing round cups of tea, ever her faithful remedy.

Bill and Fleur, so soon to be married, are most likely sitting side by side on the couch, Fleur's pretty blonde head resting on Bill's shoulder as they pretend to be older than they are. The twins are in there, probably with their backs against the wall. Ginny supposes they're tossing in the odd joke in an attempt to lighten the mood, like they always do. But on second thoughts, she thinks that now isn't like it always used to be. Everything's changing. She's only fifteen years old, but she can see what's going on. She isn't an idiot.

She sits on these stairs because her mother sent her to bed, told her she was too young to hear these horrible stories. But Ginny knows they're not just stories. They're real life. Her life. And she can't ignore that.

Mum lets Harry, and Hermione and even Ron listen in. They are all seated on cushions next to Kingsley and Remus and Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody. It frustrates her, everyone treating her like a five year old. How quickly they forget. Out of all her many siblings, she is the one who truly knows what Voldemort is like. She is the one who was possessed, whose body and freedom was taken over by him at the age of eleven. The only one who could possibly understand is Harry, who has faced him more times than any of the rest of the Order.

And it's for this reason, more than anything else, that she knows she has to help defeat him. She has to be a part of it all. Not for the glory, not even because it's the right thing to do. Because she has to triumph over the man- no, he is not a man- who erased her eleventh year. She needs to get revenge.

What was Dumbledore's Army if she can not fight? What was the Battle at the Ministry a mere month ago? What was the promise she made to herself and her friends that she would defy Umbridge, defy the Ministry, defy Voldemort? It was all nothing, meaningless if she could not follow it through.

And she is a Gryffindor, a Weasley, a strong and determined girl. It doesn't matter to her what the adults tell her to do. It doesn't matter that they think she is too young, too naïve, too precious and incapable. It doesn't even matter that they've all neglected to remember that Harry was only eleven the first time he came face to face with Voldemort.

Ginny opens her eyes and stands up. The stairs beneath her creak as she descends them, but she doesn't care if her parents hear. She is going to fight; she will prove it to them. At the bottom of the stairs, she pushes the living room door open and swiftly steps inside. The room falls silent, and everyone inside turns their attention to her.

"Ginny, dear, what on earth are you doing down here?" exclaims Mrs. Weasley, rising from her armchair.

"Yes, you should be in bed, love," chimes in Mr. Weasley. "It's very late."

"Ginny, do as mum and dad say," says Bill, his arm around Fleur.

"But, please-" Ginny starts, her arms folded across her chest determinedly.

"No, this is far too confidential," barks Moody. "Only members of the Order can hear it, I'm afraid."

"Well, you let Ron, Hermione and Harry hear it-"

"Yeah, well we're older!" adds Ron, sounding smug.

"Hardly! You're only a year-"

"A year can make all the difference," murmurs Lupin softly, staring fixedly at his knees as though he doesn't want to be a part of it all.

"It doesn't make any difference at all!" says Ginny, feeling an unwelcome lump begin to rise at the back of her throat.

"Ginny's right you know." The room falls silent at Harry's words. His cheeks are blushing red, but he is sitting forward, and looking right at Ginny. "When I was her age I faced Voldemort in the graveyard. If I can do it, so can Ginny."

"Well, I hardly think it's quite the same thing," begins Mrs. Weasley.

"Please, Mum," cuts in Ginny, the lump in her throat gone. "I just want to help. I want this over just as much as you do! And I'm more than capable, you know that."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchange wary glances, Mr. Weasley pushing his glasses up his nose.

"We're just worried about you, dear," he says, and exhaustion fills his voice. "If something were to happen to you, we'd never forgive ourselves. You remember what happened in your first year…"

So I was wrong, thinks Ginny, they didn't forget it all so quickly. She sighs, and looks up at her father. His bright orange hair is thinning rapidly, and his freckled skin is so pale. Large purple circles encompass his blue eyes. This war is taking its toll on them all.

"Dad, something's going to happen to me whether I fight or not," Ginny reasons. "Something's going to happen to us all. Either we win, or we lose. And we need as many people to fight as we can. I'm not a baby anymore, Dad. Please let me help, it's all I want."

"Let her stay." It is Tonks, leaning against the fireplace. Her hair is a dull brown, hanging limp across her shoulders. There is no spark in her eyes. "She is no little girl, Arthur."

And so Mr. Weasley sighs, and nods. Ginny can stay. Just like that. She is almost wired with happiness, with relief. She turns her head, and looks at Harry. He smiles, shy and unsure. She smiles back, her wide grin grateful and confident. She knows that together, this motley bunch of people can do anything.

_Smile_

_If you can_

_I'm with you till the end_

_That's all I wanna do_


	2. How To Save A Life The Fray

How to Save a Life- The Fray

_Where did I go wrong?_

_I lost a friend_

_Somewhere along in the bitterness_

Lily is fifteen years old, and her world is falling to pieces around her. That shining new wonder of a world full of magic has slowly worn off. Her sister's letters have grown shorter and shorter, and now they don't come at all.

James Potter and his idiotic friends continue to taunt her, pull her long red plaits and call her Lilyflower. It's not a cruel name, but it annoys her even so. It makes her feel young, and goodness knows she wants to be grown up.

To top off everything, Severus is changing. Her once so dependable best friend is drifting away from her, and there seems to be nothing she can do to bring him back.

Mary and Marlene and Alice don't understand why she wants to. They tell her it's for the best. That he's just a Slytherin Slimeball. That it's okay, because they're her best friends now. It's true, in a way. Lily knows that they would do anything for her, and she for them.

But it's Dorcas Meadowes, the shy bookish best friend of Marlene McKinnon, who seems to understand most. She squeezes Lily's hand across the common room coffee table, after Severus snubbed her for Mulciber and Rowle. Lily had been blinking back tears, and trying not to meet James Potter's eye from across the room.

"Maybe you should talk to him," she says, her long curly hair the colour of applesauce curtaining the side of her face. She smiles, warm and reassuring, and the other girls fall silent.

"No, you shouldn't!" Marlene McKinnon exclaims, her large dark eyes widening. "He's an idiot! He's not good enough for you, Lil."

"Actually, I think that's a good idea," Lily says, looking directly at her friends. "I have to stop him from hanging out with those guys, they're not good for him."

Marlene sighs, but places an olive hand on Lily's knee.

"Alright," she says begrudgingly. "But do be careful, Lils. Though why you want to be friends with him, I don't know…"

"Maybe he's nice deep down," Alice Longbottom adds, smiling at Lily reassuringly.

"Yeah, and he's always been lovely to Lily," Mary McDonald chimes in, nodding enthusiastically.

Lily grins, wiping the unwelcome tears from her eyes. She stands up, swiftly and determinedly, and waves goodbye to her friends.

"I won't be long, promise!" she calls, before bounding out of the portrait hole, winking discreetly at lovely Dorcas Meadowes.

_Step one_

_You say we need to talk_

_He walks_

_You say sit down it's just a talk_

_He smiles politely back at you_

_You stare politely right on through_

Lily finds him by the lake, sitting on the dry grass with his Slytherin friends. His wand is in his hand, and she watches as he uses it to split individual blades of grass. She isn't afraid, and she doesn't back down. She doesn't draw her wand, or look away. She just walks confidently forward, her arms folded across her chest. One of Severus' friends (Mulciber, she thinks) nudges him, and nods his head in her direction. Sev looks up, and then mutters something to his friends. Their laughter carries in the summer breeze. She tries to ignore this, but can't help but feel a bit disheartened.

"Severus," she says as she gets nearer. "We need to talk."

"Oh, Sev, you're girlfriend wants to talk," chuckles Mulciber, his voice high-pitched in a crude imitation of Lily.

"I'm not his girlfriend," she snaps, before Severus can get a word in. His cheeks are flushing at the suggestion, but he stands up.

"No, sit back down," says Lily. "It's just a talk, and we can have it right here."

"Fine," sighs Severus, running a hand through his greasy hair resignedly. "But Evan, Mulciber… just go."

"No, they can stay," Lily says briskly. "They need to hear this." But despite what she says, they run off, laughing at Severus' misfortune.

"What's wrong?" he asks, as if he is oblivious as to why she has come here. He smiles politely, believing himself charming. Lily thinks he is anything but. She doesn't smile back. She just stares at him disbelievingly.

After a moment, Severus clears his throat.

"Well, Lily, if you have nothing to say then I'll just-" he begins, but Lily cuts him off coldly.

"Don't pretend you don't know why I've come here, Severus!" she cries, kneeling in the grass beside him.

"I… don't." His lies are not smooth, and the way he ducks his head makes it evident to Lily that he knows exactly why she has come to find him.

"You're such a bad liar!" she exclaims exasperatedly. "You do so know."

"If it's about me going to Hogsmeade with Mulciber and Rosier yesterday…" mumbles Severus.

"Yes, that's exactly it!" shouts Lily. "You promised we'd go together, like we always do. I was waiting for you, and then you walked off with those two Slytherin idiots! You make me so angry, Snape."

"Snape? Since when have you called me Snape?" questions Severus, evidently trying to change the subject.

"Since you snubbed me for two baboons!"

"Baboons? That's not very nice, Lil."

"Don't call me that!"

"What? W-why not? I've always called you Lil…"

"Well, not anymore Severus. Not unless you stop hanging around with those horrible, racist, Slytherin bullies!" Lily is quieter now. She isn't shouting. Her voice is deathly cold, and her gentle doe eyes are stony.

"Oh, they're not racist Lil, they're just smart," Severus tries to reason.

"How on earth could you think them smart?" proclaims Lily, appalled at his ignorance.

"Well, in these dark times they're keeping safe," he babbles, trying to smooth over his mistakes. "They don't really believe those things about Mudbloods, Lil. Nor do I."

"So you're not racist, but you're happy to use racist words? That's not smart, Severus, that's cowardly."

_As he begins to raise his voice_

_You lower yours and grant him one last choice_

_Drive until you lose the road_

_Or break with the ones you've followed_

Severus is speechless. He sits in silence, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers.

"You need to stop hanging around with them, Sev," she says softly, all the energy seemingly drained from her. "Please, I hate that you're changing so."

Severus sighs, and stands up. Lily looks up at him, raising a hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the sun.

"They're my friends, Lily. And so are you. And if you can't accept that, that's you're problem." He turns, and walks back toward the castle.

That night, if not for Dorcas and Marlene, she would be crying. Instead, she sits between them on the comfiest sofa in the common room, and listens to them talk about books they've read and clothes they want and gorgeous Gideon Prewett in Seventh year.

They take it in turns to partner her in potions, and they stop James Potter from calling her Lilyflower. Marlene tells her Petunia sounds like a total bore, and Dorcas shares with her the sweets her mother sends by Owl. It is Dorcas and Marlene that Lily compares her notes with, Dorcas and Marlene that she studies with in the library. Together, they go to Hogsmeade and sprawl on the grass and laugh over boys. It is them who she sits with on the train.

Marlene and Dorcas welcome her with open arms, and she couldn't be more grateful. All summer she worries that it was all short-lived, that they don't really want to be friends.

But on the first day of fifth year they envelope her in a hug, and gush about their holidays.

It is Dorcas and Marlene that she sits beside at her first Order Meeting, and Dorcas and Marlene that she first shows the diamond on her finger. She follows them down the aisle at her wedding, and listens as they make the most heartfelt speech she's ever heard in her life.

She tells them she is pregnant second only to James. They place their hands on her belly assure her they can feel it kicking, despite the fact that the foetus is only a few weeks old.

And then one day, it is just Dorcas she sits beside, both of them staring in disbelief at a coffin containing Marlene.

Two months later, it's just Lily, her stomach swelled to the size of a beach ball as Dorcas' body is lowered into the ground.

And then one day, not even she is there anymore.

Severus Snape alone remains. He stands in the hallway of a house in Godric's Hollow, peering tentatively around the nursery door. He reels back at the sight of a broken body sprawled on the floor, red hair cushioning her fall. The body of a woman- no, a girl- he'd thought he'd known so well. A woman he loved, perhaps above anyone else. A woman who had probably never loved him. A woman who lived no longer. A woman whose death he could have stopped.

_And I would have stayed up with you all night_

_Had I known how to save a life_


	3. I Will Follow Katie Herzig

_You were in a dream I had_

_Doing dishes in a laundromat_

Shell Cottage is clean. That is the first thing that comes to Luna's mind when she is settled in her bed the first night she's there. She wriggles her _clean_ toes against her _clean_ white sheets. Her _clean_ spun-silver hair brushes across her _clean_ face, and her _clean_ hands rest beneath her _clean_ cheek. It is all so very different to the filthy dungeons of Malfoy Manor.

Of course, Luna doesn't mind the dirt. As a child (and even now) she reveled in it, made mud-pies and planted flowers. She rolled around in the fresh, rich earth of autumn, touched it, breathed it. Lived it.

And even as she thinks about it, life in the grimy underground prison of Malfoy Manor wasn't so bad. She had company. She was alive. Luna is sure that other people are worse off than her. But even still, she doesn't think she would be here if it weren't for Mr. Ollivander. Kind, frail Mr. Ollivander. She hopes that he is okay downstairs. She is sure that Fleur Weasley will have patched him up. Luna thinks Fleur is a strange choice for a Weasley. She is beautiful, sure. But she is graceful, and dignified and perfect. But then, she supposes in their own strange way, so are the Weasleys.

Luna tosses and turns that night, breathing in the _clean_ salty air of the velvety ocean right outside her window. There is far too much for her to comprehend. She spent months in that dank dungeon.

She had relied on her mind to count the hours, relied on her shaky voice to tell the hunger to go away. She had listened to threats and murderous spells, watched Draco Malfoy's trembling lips tell his wand to torture Mr. Ollivander.

Twice, he'd even tortured her.

She had been forced to wonder what had happened to her father, to Ginny and Neville back at school.

And then suddenly, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas had turned up in her dungeon. In that moment, her heart had sunk. She had truly thought that this moment would never come, that her dear, brave friends would never be caught. She had believed that they'd win this thing.

And then before she knew it, she was holding the hand of a little house-elf. The dark depths of Malfoy Manor disappeared, and she had landed flat on her back beneath the stars. She hadn't had the energy to sit up. She had lain there, staring up at the clear night sky, her jaw open in awe.

Someone was leaning over her, she could sense it. But she didn't say anything. She couldn't.

"Hey, are you alright?" The voice was deep, warm. She knew whose voice it was immediately. She always remembered people's voices.

"L-Luna? Are you okay?" He was shaking her shoulder, growing more desperate.

"This place is beautiful," Luna had said, her voice rasping from lack of use. Slowly, she sat up. The clearly relieved face of Dean Thomas swam into view.

His face had been streaked with dirt, and his cheeks were sunken. Luna had stood up, and turned towards the little house in the distance.

"I think the little house-elf wanted us to go there," she had said, pointing at it. Dean hadn't said anything, so Luna took his grubby sleeve and gently pulled him upwards.

Together, they had mustered up every ounce of energy they had and ran towards calm, clean, _beautiful_ Shell Cottage.

Dean Thomas sleeps in the living room downstairs, Luna knows. So do Ron and Harry. On the bed opposite hers lays Hermione Granger, bruised and horribly scarred. But it is kind, worrisome Dean she thinks of. Dean, who used to sit in the library drawing all Saturday long. Dean, whose best friend was loud, excitable Seamus Finnegan. Quiet, artistic Dean, who made beautiful posters and banners for Quidditch Matches, who used to date Ginny Weasley. It is Dean she dreams of that night.

_And then you smiled at me_

_You said let's hide and seek_

Luna is not jealous as she watches Harry, Ron and Hermione talk at the breakfast table each morning. They don't know she can see them from where she folds linen in the hallway. She is too far away to make out what they're saying, but she can hear the buzz of their excited voices. She wishes she could help them, but she knows they need to do this alone.

She doesn't feel lonely at Shell Cottage, even after Mr. Ollivander leaves. Ron, Harry and Hermione are lovely to her. When they're not planning things in secret (which isn't often) they talk to her, pretend like everything is normal.

Bill and Fleur are kind. They fix her meals and bring her clean clothes. Bill shows her the garden, and Fleur tells her about her home in France as they wash the dishes.

But it is Dean she spends the most time with. They sit together on the wet sand, little granules of crushed shell clinging to their pants and shoes. Dean watches the cold grey waves lap at the shore. Luna watches Dean.

"It's almost like the waves are trying to drag us into the water," he says thoughtfully, still staring out to sea.

"No, they're not," she replies. "The waves won't hurt us, especially not as we're sitting all the way over here. Anyway, I think they're lovely. Almost… majestic. You'd have to be pretty stupid to let the waves catch you."

"Oh, don't get me wrong," says Dean. "I think they're lovely, too. It's just… there's something about them that seems threatening. The waves hold so much, you know? We'll never know how much they hold. That seems scary, don't you think?"

"I think that seems beautiful."

They fall silent as the sun begins to burn more and more orange, sinking lower in the sky. Eventually, Dean breaks his gaze and turns to look at Luna. He smiles, dimples puncturing his wind-whipped cheeks.

"You're right, you know."

_And then you took my hand_

_In this beat of a marching band_

Luna is not surprised when she feels her Dumbledore's Army coin burn. She lifts it from her pocket, and turns it gently in her fingers. The message tells her to apparate directly into the Hogs Head, and to bring Dean.

She finds him in the kitchen, talking to Fleur. Luna can't help but feel a strange twinge in her stomach at the sight.

She shows them the coin, and within five minutes Bill, Fleur, Dean and Luna, this strange little family they have become, are standing by the crowded bar of the Hogs Head. She follows the other three, trying to make sense of the panicked babbling of the people around her.

And then suddenly she is stepping behind a portrait of a young girl, Dean right beside her. They are standing in a passageway, and it seems to Luna that there is nothing to do but walk down it. They are silent as they walk, unsure of what to expect.

And as they arrive at the other end, Dean pushes open another portrait. She watches as he steps down from the passageway and is greeted by roars of surprise from Seamus Finnegan and a roomful of students. She follows Dean, stepping nimbly from the portrait. She runs to Harry, Hermione, Ron and Cho and Padma. But it is Dean that she watches, out of the corner of her eye.

In the terrified, exhilarating after moments of the realization that they are going to fight, Luna's mind goes blank. In the sudden panic, her intelligent Ravenclaw mind cannot remember a single spell, a single incantation.

"Come on, Luna!" It is Dean, reaching for her hand and pulling her forwards. She squeezes his hand back, her legs and mind suddenly whirring into motion. And she follows him through the eerily empty corridors of Hogwarts, ready for anything this battle throws at her.

_Lead me down the garden path_

_And I will follow_

_I will follow_


End file.
